Opprobrium
by perpetually
Summary: He's going to ruin her just like how she watched everything disintegrate into debris for him. His revenge will be worthwhile until he sees only gentleness in her eyes.
1. Fuel

**Note: **I know, I started another story. Wow, so many WIPs floating on my to-do list. I finish everything that I start, so not to worry! I guess I just really like weird titles for my stories. The quirkier, the better. Anyway, this Paybackward is a little dark and rather driven on getting rid of people who have directly or indirectly hurt him. If '_Darkward has internal conflicts so he's sort-of-but-not-really-good_' isn't your thing, then perhaps this story might not be your cup of tea.

I adore trying new plot ideas. Oh and I'm also excited to write in first person for this story, though only in Edward's POV. Totally love getting into the mind of a guy. Yas! I think first-person shall work well for this storyline.

P.S I highly recommend listening to the theme music because it sets a tone of voice and might also help paint a mood for the story, its characters and the readers.

**Readers: **Viewer discretion is advised. This story is rated M. It deals with themes that might not be comfortable for all. Please read with care.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Twilight._ It is owned by Stephenie Meyer, and not part of my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only. This is a fictional story about fictional representations of real people.

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><p><strong>Theme:<strong> _The Hoosiers - A Sadness Runs Through Him_

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><p><strong>Opprobrium<strong>

**Chapter 1: Fuel**

"Dad, it's going to be okay," I spoke into the phone. I was at a lost for what to do. I couldn't believe everything he'd told me. Sitting in the flimsy studio of my apartment, I felt physically incapable. I was too far away to get my father to listen to my words carefully. To tell him that what she did was utterly disgusting.

How could I do that when I was all the way on the other side of the country?

He meant so much to me. Carlisle was the one who taught me how to play ball. He looked after me when my mother would be out drinking with her friends. He gave excuses to things that didn't deserve his lenience. He gave me compassion, he taught me empathy. But now, that was all dwindling down into nothing. It was collapsing into the smooth surface of the river like heavy boulders. A feral rage settled in my bones.

"Son," my father started to speak. Dry mouth and raspy voice. "I don't know what to do... I don't know."

A guttural sob was elicited, making me tug at my hair.

"Listen," I replied. "I'm going to fly over and visit you. I'll book the earliest-"

"No," Carlisle said. "Tomorrow's your big day. You've got that important meeting you've been waiting for. It's not every waking moment when your book is in the talks of getting published. It'll be a special day. You need to be there for that, son."

"I can always reschedule another meeting with the editor," I said. A plea for my father's agreement danced on my tongue. "Dad, you're... you're not doing well."

"Trust me, Edward. I'm okay," he said. I could hear the soft brokenness in his voice. He was deeply hurt. Cut. Torn apart. He was not okay at all.

"Don't hate your mother," he quietly said, a minute later. "I don't want you to despise her for what she did. It's ultimately just between us two."

"How can I not hate that lying-"

"Edward..." he sighed. "Just please don't hate her. I can't even bring it to myself to wipe out all the good memories we had as a family. So don't do that for me. She's still your mother. She just won't be my wife anymore."

"She tossed away all those years of marriage. She's a piece of trash," I respond with fierce anger. I loved my mother... just not now. Perhaps, never. I was always closer to my father. Like father like son. I was a man who loved to learn because of him and now that he was drowning in his own ruins, I felt a surge of duty to do something about it. To repay him for everything he'd done for me.

Carlisle never deserved any of it. I couldn't even fathom how she could do something like that. Who could have supported her? Who could have made her think that it was alright to be the world's worst wife?

"What's the other guy's name?" I growled, angrily. The phone groaned as my hand threatened to shatter its very existence.

"Edward..." my father spoke. "You're not going to do Hamlet's job for him. I've already come to terms with it. We'll just need to move on, son."

"How are you so calm about everything?" I exclaimed into the phone. It bewildered me and completely drove me into a room full of bold question marks. Everything just felt out of balance. Slightly psychedelic.

"Because I loved her once," Carlisle said. "And I'll learn to let her go. She let me go a long time ago. I just never made a move to get her back."

"That's no excuse."

"I'd always work... all day at the hospital," my father rambled on. "I thought I could be a good psychiatrist. I thought I could help everyone that needed me. I was too busy. I ignored her feelings and her thoughts. The one woman who mattered so much to me."

"Stop," I said. "You have to stop making excuses for her. I know you're an understanding guy. But she's... she's a motherfucking adulteress."

"I met his daughter once," my father continued. "She was such a bright, lovely girl. She spoke with intelligence and she listened with patience. But she... supported what her father did."

"Wait. Who are we talking about here?" I asked. A little confused about where this conversation was going.

Carlisle sighed. "Nothing, I shouldn't have said anything. They just seemed like such a nice family. I was hoping to get to know them better. And now... it seems like Esme will be the one doing that. She broke every promise she's ever made. And I can't even hate her for that. I hate myself for letting that happen."

"You met the guy who Esme's been sleeping with?" I questioned with complete shock. "And what the hell, you met his _daughter _as well? Is he a cheating son of a bitch with a wife who is hurting?"

"No, his wife died when she gave birth to their daughter," Carlisle responded.

"Oh, so he thinks it's okay to go steal someone else's wife. That guy has balls. I'm going to kill-"

"That's what I mean," my dad muttered. "You have this need to be a hero in situations where there _is _no hero. Marriages collapse all the time... it just never worked out between us two. At least we raised you right."

"_You _raised me right," I firmly corrected. "All she wanted me to be was a perfect son who she could brag about. She never treated me like an equal. She never spoke to me like an adult and taught me how to fix up my mistakes or stand up from a fall."

There was a thin veil of momentary silence that draped over the phone conversation.

"Thank you, son. It means a lot to hear that," Carlisle said, quietly. I could hear the break in his voice as he spoke those words.

I loved him dearly.

He was my best friend.

When I was bullied in high school, he was the one who told me that some people with unfortunate upbringings and family situations would take out their anger on the weaker ones at school. He got me to understand that there was nothing wrong with me. It was just the flaws of human beings. He trained me to stand up for what was right. To stay true to my morals.

He allowed me to understand human emotions and experience them, by myself and with others. I volunteered at the local nursing home because my father taught me to be a good person. I volunteered at the homeless shelter because my father taught me to be a kind person.

A tear fell down my cheek as Carlisle started to cry.

"Dad," I softly said. "You're pretending that you're okay but you're not. You're letting her off the hook way too easily. You're the one suffering. You can sue her."

"I'm not going to sue Esme," Carlisle replied, stoically. "She'll be happier with... him."

"And what, you're going to suffer for the rest of your life?" I spat as I started to walk around the apartment, unable to get my father to realize he was worth so much more.

"I can't do anything about it," he said. "You can't force people to be with you. They have to want to be with you."

"I still can't believe she did all that shit. She threw away decades of marriage. What the fuck was she thinking? Oh no, she wasn't thinking." I had to remind myself to not break the device that was allowing me to communicate with my father. The phone didn't deserve my wrath.

"I... I couldn't bring myself to tell you earlier," Carlisle said. "I found out a month ago. But I was just lost in my head. I didn't know who to confide in."

"You'll always have me to talk to."

"I know, Edward. You're my boy. And I'll love you no matter what. I just couldn't make sense of everything that was flowing through my head. I might have been an inadequate husband but I didn't know that... that would propel her to find comfort in the arms of another man." A sad sigh came out from Carlisle's mouth.

"How long has it been going on for?" I asked, not even the single bit excited to know the answer to that question.

"A year," Carlisle replied. "She told me it's been roughly a year and that he's the one-"

His words were cut off by his anguished sobs. I brought my fist to my mouth as I forced myself not to cry with him. I wouldn't be helping if I did.

"Tell me his name," I said, quietly. "I want to know that bastard's name."

"Not unless you promise me that you won't hurt him. He's not worth it, Edward. He's not worth bashing until your career is forgotten and your dreams are left aside."

"He hurt you, dad. He knew what he was doing. He knew he was that pathetic guy ruining a marriage," I reasoned with Carlisle. A thought poked me in the head. It reminded me of something Carlisle said earlier. "And what do you mean his daughter supported everything he did?"

My anger started to erupt like molten lava. It wasn't going to be held back. The black smoke clouded my vision as all I could see was red magma.

"Esme said that his daughter had waited for the longest time for them to get married. She wanted a mother figure. And now, she's got one."

"So that... girl is going to be my _stepsister_? What the actual-"

I paused, trying to calm down my breathing. Carlisle remained quiet on the other end of the phone.

"Do you know how screwed up that is? For him to propose to her when she was still married to you? And what, so his daughter thinks this is all okay because she wants a mother?" I yelled.

"Esme will still be your mother."

"I don't _want _her as my mother. She's never been a good one anyway," I said, shaking my head. "How old is his daughter anyway? No mature adult would support this cheating business."

"She's a little younger than you. Twenty-one."

"Right, so a girl who is only six years younger than me definitely has the logical reasoning of a not-quite-there pubescent. Esme is obviously marrying into some smart genes."

"Edward... the girl hasn't done anything wrong," Carlisle said.

"You just told me she supported everything they did. The bystander is just as guilty, you know. They are the somebody who can do something about a situation. If she told her dad that what he was doing was foolish, he'd probably listen to her. She's his child."

"It's getting late over there," Carlisle said after a full minute of silent contemplation. "Don't worry about me... I'll be fine."

"If you need anyone to talk to, dad, please call me. I'll pick up no matter what the time is," I pleaded. "Just don't do anything stupid."

"I should be saying that to you," Carlisle chuckled. "I love you, son. Whatever happens next, you have to know that I am so proud of you. Even though you haven't lived with us for a while, I'm sure New York is getting better because of you. You're a good person, Edward. You're my pride and happiness."

"Why is this feeling like some goodbye?" I laughed, suspiciously.

"It's goodbye for now," Carlisle said, allowing me to hear the smile in his voice.

He would always be my best friend. Even though my father would often mask his emotions, over time, I was able to uncover the hints of sadness in the miniscule cracks of his façade. Right now, he was being eaten up by his own despair.

After hanging up the phone with my dad, I settled into an uneasy sleep. He had been too calm throughout the whole conversation. There was something wrong. It was almost as if he had a plan he wanted to carry out. It was like he didn't need my input at all. He was set on accomplishing something for himself. He had everything placed in position.

All he wanted to do was to tell me the tragic news.

All he wanted was for me to understand where he was coming from.

All that was left was to say goodbye.

That was the last time I heard from my father. That was the last time I heard life, albeit a broken one, coming from him.

That very same day, Carlisle put a bullet through his head.

That very same day, I could no longer be the compassionate, empathetic person my father had taught me to be. I could no longer stand by my morals and promise to be a good citizen. I could no longer keep the lessons my father had embroidered into me.

Somebody had to pay.

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><p><strong>As always, feel free to leave your thoughts. I collect them all and store them in a jar! Metaphorically. <strong>

**Well, the main backdrop of the story has been set into place. All we need now is for some stuff to happen and character development. Any guesses as to who the daughter is?**

**Love, perpetually.**


	2. Motion

**Note:** Thank you for your kind words. Have a beautiful day.

**Music: **_Douglas Greed - Back Room Deal (ft. Delhia de France)_

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><p><strong>Opprobrium<strong>

**Chapter 2: Motion**

The glass flew across the room and shattered against the wall. The studio walls were proving themselves to be much stronger than I initially thought. They were capable of handling so much force over the past few days. By force, I was referring to the objects I threw in moments of petulance. My red-rimmed eyes blinked with drunkenness. I continued to hurl trivial items against other trivial things, yearning to hear the loud cacophony of broken objects.

It reminded me that nothing lasted forever.

It reminded me that everything had a time and a limit and that things were so easily broken down, just by one movement. Just with the swing of my arm, I could break everything that was important to me.

I stared at the photo of Carlisle on my phone. A fifteen year-old Edward stared back at me. Happy grins and baseball mitts. My father's hand on my shoulder showed everything. It symbolized his undying care for me. It symbolized his efforts to be a good parent.

Wiping the stray tears away from my face, I looked up at the ceiling. The squeaky noise that the rotating blades of the fan made filled the hollowness of the room. The meeting with the publishing house had gone well. Everything was set into motion, set into plan. I was going to be an author.

So many years in the making. After rejections and rejections, I was finally offered something monumental. And I didn't have anyone worth sharing it with.

My father. My best friend. He wasn't here. He had left, most likely thinking that everything was set out to be good for me. He couldn't handle some things. Couldn't sign her over to another man. His own horrors drowned out his intelligent reasoning. Even though he was a psychiatrist- a man of medicine and knowledge- he still couldn't escape the trauma of his failed marriage.

He told me not to pull some Hamlet move. But I made no such promise.

My mother called me a few days after his death. I picked the phone up on the first time. Sobs echoed in my earpiece as she claimed to be wallowing in sorrow. I hung up straight after. She called me again. For a second time. A third. A fourth.

By the tenth time, I simply changed the ringtone to her number and buried myself into work. I revised the manuscript. I talked to editors. They told me it was a great deal and everything was going to be a success. They told me that there were people out there who loved the writing style I wrote with. That they admired the genre. They told me I was in my niche. That I was finally expressing my talent for literature. Sometimes, I wondered if they only offered me a deal because it was going to earn them money and fame.

Either way, it was something I had worked towards, since finishing college.

But I didn't care about any of that. With no one to share it all with, it wasn't worth it. Crying myself to bed, night after night, I stopped pretending that I was okay. I stopped pretending that I was manly enough to go on a day without fresh rounds of ruthless tears.

The pub was a sensational place. Getting wasted with my feelings soaking in a shot glass had never felt so good. Some women approached me; offers would dance in their eyes. Seduction played on their lips while their fingers lingered on my clothes.

I made no attempt to stop them.

I made them moan with desire; I made them cry with ecstasy. Sometimes the relief was so good that I'd even forget where I was. I was rough and I was deadly. They had no idea what was brewing in my head. Their fingers gripped my shoulders as they mewled with appreciation for my sexual favors.

They pleased me. Tongue, hands and lower lips.

I was a statistic. A broken man whose father had just committed suicide. A broken man who refused to acknowledge his mother. _It was all her fault_, I'd repeat to myself. Every night. Sometimes, I questioned my own sanity. Sometimes, I even wondered if I knew what 'morals' meant anymore. Clearly, my mother didn't.

Condoms ran out faster than the food in my apartment. Names floated by my head as alcohol pumped through my system. I even ended up laughing at my own manuscript, just at the plain stupidity of words. Feelings couldn't be expressed in words. There were not enough words to depict human emotions.

Sometimes, I questioned why I even wrote. Nothing could be precisely explained in language form. Death, happiness, rebirth. Nothing. I hated it all. I sulked in my sadness and I was besieged by my own pity. Sometimes, I woke up from nightmares. Sometimes, I didn't even try waking up at all.

Jacob called me one day, telling me that he'd met a new girl. Jacob was a college friend of mine. He was down-to-earth and spectacular to hang out with. I told him the news about my father, although leaving left out some of the details. He expressed his condolences. He was patient with me. Up until I screamed in his new girlfriend's face while the three of us were at lunch together.

Leah was her name. She really didn't do anything wrong. At least from what I remembered. My emotions were a roller-coaster. My words were unfiltered and slippery like a water slide. They flew out with no ill-intentions. Yet, they implied terrible things.

Jacob pulled me aside and told me that even though I was hurting, I shouldn't be hurting others as well. I punched him in the face. It felt good. It felt good to hurt someone. Even someone who was close to me. I apologized with empty eyes looking straight forward. Jacob walked away without another word. He knew that I needed time to recover. Nobody could help me but myself.

The days turned into weeks. And soon, I came to a realization. I had a funeral to go to. Esme's text was the unnecessary invitation to my own father's memorial. The hospital mourned the loss of an amazing doctor. The city felt heavier without the presence of Carlisle Cullen. A plane ride took me there. I avoided looking at my mother's eyes. But I did notice that she wasn't with a man.

She must have realized it was disrespectful to bring her new family here. That earned her one-tenth of a brownie point.

It was a relief to not see that son of a bitch and his no-good daughter.

I laughed drily as I watched my mother cry into a tissue. I spoke a few words on the podium. Nobody knew anything about me apart from the pretence I was maintaining. I only spoke what they wanted to hear. The words of a heartbroken son who would support his mother's road to recovery. That wasn't going to happen. Esme did not deserve any sympathy.

I internally muted the entire duration of Esme's speech. I didn't know how I managed to but nothing went into my head so it must have been a success. It was like everything she said just went into one ear and out the other.

In that moment, whilst looking at my father's coffin being lowered into the ground, I realized that I was a different man. I dressed differently, spoke differently, walked differently. There was a hard edge to my stare. A firm glare in my smile. I never knew I had a thing for leather. I never knew I had a thing for cigarettes. For alcohol. For addictive sex.

The immense amounts of self-observations collided into me at full speed. I wasn't sure what I wanted in life anymore. I didn't know where to start and I didn't know what I wanted to end up with in the final equation of things. I was at an intersection, simply surveying the different roads I could take.

I could walk away and move on, honoring my father's existence instead of dwelling on his demise. I could forgive my mother and greet her with open arms. Or I could just never call her a mother again. However, the fourth and last road looked the most tempting... I could make everything right. Two wrongs could make a right, no matter what they said.

I wondered who _they _were. A father and a daughter who decided to fuck up everything. They were being left off way too easily. Esme was probably suspended in her own fears of being haunted by Carlisle's ghost, but as for the other two, they had no idea who they were messing around with. I wasn't in the mood for fun and games.

I lit a cigarette as I walked away from the cemetery. Black leather wrapped comfortably over my shirt. My mother would probably freak out at my new love for smoking. But her opinions had stopped mattering the moment she decided to succumb to her lustful desires.

I stayed in Seattle for the following weeks. Esme kept calling me as she had not been given the chance to speak to me at the funeral. She called countless times. Periodically, she'd leave a message. I think she also realized that her attempts to contact me were futile, no matter how hard she tried. I didn't even know why she bothered.

The room service in the hotel wasn't too bad but I wasn't exactly willing to smash any of the plates that I'd have to end up paying for later. Grief lectured me every single day. Grief was my substitute best friend. Carlisle wasn't here so Grief was here instead. Laughing at me. Mocking me.

But Grief was able to catalyze internal revelations. He evoked a crazed man's rage. Grief drove me to do something that I never realized I wanted to do for so long.

Hiring a car, I waited outside the house that I grew up in. A nice, modern place. A two-storey, homely haven. It was no longer that familiar haven anymore though. I could not connect with the familial memories embedded inside that house.

Esme walked out, wearing a large sunhat and a pair of expensive sunglasses. She had a smile on her lips as she talked on her phone. She hardly looked like the image of a mourning widow. To be fair, she was already engaged in an extramarital affair and was prepared to bounce into a marriage with some other guy on the side. A widow was definitely not a fitting title for her.

I followed her at a safe distance. It didn't take long before she pulled up at a house.

She was enveloped in a hug with a brown-haired man who had a mustache. He kissed her on the lips; I had to look away. He invited her in while I waited outside. Feeling like a stalker, I turned on the radio to feel just a little bit normal. The music that started to play made me feel lighter. My fingers tapped on the steering wheel as I stared at the house.

It housed the most pathetic people.

No sooner had I looked around at the neighboring houses, I noticed a figure out of my peripheral vision. She was a petite girl. A brunette.

She was a combination of lanky arms and thin legs. I noticed the appealing curve of her backside and the wavy hair that rested down her back. She had a pair of glasses perched on her nose. But she slid them up onto her head when she tied up the garbage bag that she was hauling along, not wanting her glasses to fall into it.

She looked... almost delicate.

Shaking the thought away, I couldn't help but sneer a little in her direction. Apparently, this was the troublesome one. The one who supported everything. This was what nuisance looked like. The stupid girl who had no moral compass. She was most likely a lying cheat just like her father. Pretending to be innocent. Pretending to be so many things.

I was sick of appearances.

She slipped her glasses onto her nose as she walked back into the house.

I drove off soon afterwards.

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><p>Like a damaged son, I followed the unhealthy pattern for two weeks straight. My editor called once in a while but we mainly conversed through email. Lindsay was her name. A middle-aged woman with two kids. She asked me about my absence, so I told her a warped truth of what had happened. She expressed her sorrows and told me that I could have as much time as I needed to get back on my feet.<p>

Enough time to set a delirious plan into action.

I watched _her_. I followed her. She hung out with a few of her friends every Friday night. Occasionally, she'd wear her glasses but every once in a while, she didn't.

I felt queasy every time she'd laugh or smile. It made me feel nauseous at how happy she was. How happy my future _stepsister_ was when I was rolling in a pit of melancholy. It made me feel sick to my stomach that I'd be legally connected to her at some point in the future. I didn't want a step-sibling. Not her.

I managed to catch the name of one of her friends. But I never got her name. They seemed to just call her by a single letter, 'B'. Alice was her friend's name. A black-haired girl with pasty skin. She didn't seem harmful. She reminded me of a girl I'd met at the shelter once. Quiet, graceful and polite.

I got close to B. But never too close for her to notice me. She was a total mystery. She spoke very little, even to her friends, seeming to have more thoughts in her head than words could possibly express. But then again, it was always the quiet ones who were the most deceitful. The most treacherous. I scoffed every time I thought of her. She was nothing but trouble waiting to be played into my hand.

My second-grade teacher used to tell me that it was silly to prey on the weak. She told me that if we had guts and a heart full of confidence, we should always seek a competition that was worth our size and strength. She taught the class that bullying was wrong. It was picking on people who were too nice to stand up for themselves and too shy to hurt someone else. I remembered her telling us that it made us better people to learn from the courageous acts of others. She liked to remind us that seeking tougher competitors out there made us braver people. Not hurting the weak.

She'd always say that it was our duty to become better people by obtaining inspiration from those more successful than us, instead of pushing the less powerful beneath us. Her words were crystal clear.

I told myself I would never hurt those weaker than me. I would never put down those who were trying and those who were growing. I was not an immoral fool. I was my father's son. I was Carlisle's son.

But the reevaluation of the current situation made me register the fact that everything had now irreversibly changed. I couldn't prioritize those values anymore. By getting to B, it would allow me to get to her father as well. Destroying someone close to the target was just as damaging. Perhaps, it'd show him what an incompetent person he truly was. Perhaps, it'd also remind Esme of everything she tragically demolished.

I wasn't supposed to prey on the weak. But by hurting the weaker ones first, I could get to where I wanted to be. She was a weed in the garden; she was a tasteless fruit. She was nothing special and she was in my way. She was just an obstacle.

And that was how I approached her at the bar, one night. She sat there in a black dress, like a fifth-wheel with her friends.

At twenty-one years young, she was naïvety waiting to be schooled.

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><p><strong>Some serious Paybackward happening. There are some links on my profile if you're interested, regarding this story. What are we thinking of black-leather Edward?<strong>

**Love, perpetually.**


	3. Determination

**Note:** Thank you for reading! I wish you all a spiffing day. A big hug to Fran for editing!

**Music: **_Laura Marling - Rambling Man_

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><p><strong>Opprobrium<strong>

**Chapter 3: Determination**

I approached her.

Not a cell in my body alerted my alarm system. Nothing told me to abort this absurd adventure of mine.

I was perfect calmness.

I was a vulture.

Waiting and waiting.

... For my opportunity.

The very first moment I stared straight into her eyes, I saw beauty. Nevertheless, it was beauty tainted with masked haughtiness. She wore a disguise, just like all the other women. She had dark make-up on and half-pulled-up hair. Her lips parted when she saw me. She was just another lamb in a flock of sheep. She was no different.

I offered her no half-hearted smile. I flashed my best, crooked grin, teasing her. Cockiness oozed out with the flash of pearly, white teeth.

She was now by herself. Her friends had left her to dance. She seemed surprised by my strides towards her; as if it was utter disbelief to her that I was approaching.

Closer and closer.

She stared up at me through her lashes, looking like a scared fawn.

"I couldn't help but notice you from all the way across the bar," I smoothly said. "You're gorgeous."

Words trickled out of my mouth like the unwavering pace of a flowing stream. She'll be unwinding in no time.

A faint blush rose up onto her cheeks as she gave off a nervous smile. "Thanks."

_Definitely trying to play hard-to-get_, I laughed to myself. Who knew what she had locked up in that cunning head of hers?

"I'm Masen," I offered. "What's yours, Midnight Delight?"

She smiled. It seemed like all the right words were making her melt. She was easy, just like all the other bar-encounters.

"Is that my new nickname? Midnight Delight?" she laughed. "You may as well have just said Turkish Delight."

"All right, Turkish Delight, what's your real name?" I urged, leaning closer to her.

"That was a sarcastic joke, by the way," she stated. "You made it sound like you wanted to eat me, that's all."

A slight tinge of humiliation colored my face, making me look away from her. Her sassy attitude didn't escape me. It made me want to lure her even more.

Destroy her.

"Bella," she replied before I was able to speak again. So that was what the 'B' stood for.

"Bella," I murmured. "A lovely name to go with a lovely girl."

I moved my hand, asking if I could join her. She nodded and looked at me whilst I seated myself on the stool next to her.

"How old are you? You look awfully young."

Knowing the answer to that question already, I listened carefully to the soft tone of her voice. It was sinfully sweet and honey-like. It reminded me of smooth velvet and gentle silk. She was a surprise waiting to be unraveled.

"Twenty-one," Bella answered. "Since a month ago."

"Happy belated birthday then," I said. "Can I get you a drink, just for the sake of celebration?"

Bella looked me in the eyes, making me blink twice as fast. She then nodded. "Sure. I'll have whatever you're having."

"Jameson on the rocks for the lady and myself," I said to the bartender.

The hours of the night flowed on.

She'd laugh at something for a split second before covering her mouth to silence her giggles. Sometimes, she'd just give me one of her shy smiles. If this was some game she was familiar with playing at the bar, I was truly starting to get into it. I was curious to see where she was going with this charade. We talked about our favorite artists to our favorite events in history. We went from conversations on breeds of dogs to the meaning of life.

Strangely enough, I started to enjoy her company. However, that made the guilt in my chest roar a little louder.

_Still doesn't change anything_, Guilt would remind me. Grief would nod his head in agreement, encouraging me to venture into the dark crevices of Bella's head. Everyone had their secrets. Everyone had their weaknesses. I just needed to find hers.

We never entered a state of pure drunkenness. I didn't want to get a barely twenty-one year-old wasted but Bella gleefully reassured me that she wasn't a lightweight anyway. Her feeble attempts of appearing tough induced a smile to crawl onto my face. I was discovering weird stuff about myself tonight... who knew Edward Cullen could still smile after all the shit that has happened.

"What's your last name?" I asked Bella. We stopped drinking hours ago, more interested in carrying on a coherent conversation with each other. I was to get closer to her. That was all I wanted out of this.

At least for tonight.

"Swan," she replied. "What about you?"

Guilt suddenly decided to introduce me to his son, Guilt Junior, who did nothing but whine to me about how unprepared I was for all of this. I had quickly made up a first name; now, I had to come up with an even better surname.

"Masen Hale," I replied, liking the ring to my new alias. Wanting to switch topics, I chose to say something else. "Tell me about your family, Bella."

"There's not much to say," she replied, not meeting my gaze.

"How do you mean? We all have stories to tell. I'm sure we all have people in our lives that we care about," I said, trying to get her started. She was like a closed book. It was starting to make me doubt my current modus operandi. It'd probably take twenty years to learn everything about this woman. She was a bewilderment. Just like what my father had said, it was probably going to take a toll on my life and career if I became solely focused on hurting her and her father.

I needed a shortcut.

But then, she spoke, kicking my frenzied thoughts away.

"Well, I look after my father, Charlie," Bella said. "But he doesn't need me anymore... he's got a new fiancé."

_Charlie Swan_.

Now, we were making some definite progress. Comically, I felt like rubbing my hands together whilst breaking out in a maniacal laugh, but that would literally ruin my cover and portray me as one of the most clichéd villains, ever.

She continued, "He... he hasn't needed me for some time now. It's complicated, I guess."

"Do you like his new fiancé?" I asked in a casual voice. Bella looked at me and paused for a moment, thinking about her response.

"Yes," she replied with a firm voice, as if she was trying to prove something. My disgust for her swelled, with just that one word. It felt like a fist in my stomach, mingling with the acidity in my intestines. I felt a hardened expression take over my face.

"I see," I said, wiping my hands on my pants. It seemed as though she did support everything after all.

"Tell me something about yourself," she sweetly asked a few seconds later. However, there was nothing sweet about her.

"I'm a determined guy," I responded, staring back at her.

"Determination is good. It's the driving force that we need," Bella said thoughtfully.

"No, that's motivation," I stated. "Determination is getting that final goal. Motivation is what drives determination. Whether it's something that's just happened or something that hasn't happened yet, but you desperately want it to."

"You seem to know a lot," she commented wryly.

"How about I tell you more about what I know. Do you want to get out of here?" I asked her, smiling flirtatiously. She stumbled across her words, but I ended up hearing something about her having to tell her friends she was leaving.

It turned out that they'd sent Bella a text earlier in the night and left her after seeing us great friends she had.

"They're not usually like this." Bella defended them.

We caught a cab to the hotel where I was staying. I placed my hand on her lower back as we walked into the elevator. She rambled on about how it had been so long since she'd traveled and stayed at a hotel. While she chattered about her silly thoughts, I simply stared at her.

For the entire night, I was adamant about figuring her out.

She was loud and quiet.

She was spontaneous and shy.

It was as though she couldn't make up her mind to be just one thing. She had to be everything, and that confused me. It was too hard to pinpoint her grand weaknesses, apart from her naïvety, of course. I needed some substance and I needed some leads to follow.

"I don't usually do this, you know... go into hotel rooms with men," Bella said, as soon as we entered my room. With my back facing her, I rolled my eyes.

She wasn't fooling anyone.

"In case you were wondering, I'm here for business. That's why I'm staying at a hotel. I'm from New York."

"What do you do, Masen?" Bella asked me.

"I write." My reply was simple. I did write. However, I wasn't writing right now. I didn't know how to put words into sentences or sentences into a comprehensible story. My own reality was eroding the fiction inside my head.

"Wow," Bella said, turning to look at me. "I never really knew my mom but I've heard that she loved to write as well."

Little did she know she was unwittingly feeding me another piece to the mosaic I was crafting. An image of her and her convoluted secrets.

Bella was quiet while I turned on the television. I could see her staring into the side of my face. It was a burning gaze. I waited for her to speak.

"Why did you approach me?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"There were so many women at the bar," Bella said. "They were all so attractive. Yet you walked over to me."

"You don't see yourself clearly then."

I felt the presence of Worry. She was laughing uncontrollably at me for my cheesy words. It seemed like Grief, Worry and Guilt (along with Guilt Junior) decided it was a good day to gang up on me.

_Great, a writer talking to his feelings_, I thought to myself, _it doesn't get weirder than that_.

"What do you see in me?" Bella questioned, pushing on. This woman really didn't know when to give up.

I muted the television and turned to face her. We sat down on the foot of the bed. I held her hand for emotional emphasis.

"You looked so innocent and carefree," I told her. "You were different from those other girls. You seemed _real_."

She smiled, seemingly accepting my words. I swallowed the temptation to taunt her naïve thoughts of simplicity. It was absurd how a few strings of words could seep into the heart of a woman. It made this mission a little less fun. We just leveled down to 'easy'. I was at least hoping for a 'medium' on this game.

"That sounds so rehearsed," Bella muttered.

My eyes widened slightly.

She was full of surprises. Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, she was starting to catch my bluff.

"It's not," I reassured her, a little lost at what else to say.

"Do you promise?" she said. Eyes big. Lips apart.

"I promise."

I brought my hands up to her face and caressed her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered closed. I gingerly placed a kiss onto the tip of her nose and moved downwards until I made contact with her lips.

They were soft.

They were smooth.

I felt as if I was drowning in the after-effects of a sleeping pill. Her haunting presence made my eyes feel like staying closed forever. They just wanted to relish in the sensation of her proximity.

She moaned softly, making my boxers tent.

_God, she's affecting you more than she should_, I berated myself.

Bella's hands went into my hair, tangling and weaving, here and there. Her small whimpers made my semi, turn into a full-blown hard-on. Climbing over her, I rested my hands on either side of her head, digging them into the soft mattress as her lithe body relaxed beneath mine.

I was getting closer to everything. Everything I was aiming to achieve.

But now, I wasn't so sure if I was frolicking in the fields of heaven or rolling in the fiery pits of hell.

Continuing to kiss Bella, I lost myself in the overdrive of sensations. I was going to seduce her until she was a bundle of messy desire. I was going to make her remember me. Only me. I was definitely going to find some enjoyment out of this sweet, sweet revenge. With every little pant she gave, I showed her what transient happiness felt like. She was spinning more and more into the palm of my hand.

Good girl.

* * *

><p><strong>Bad Edward. Bad. Anyway, whilst the seduction game is happening, I'd love to hear your thoughts. <strong>

**Love, perpetually.**


	4. Destiny

**Note:** Thank you for reading! Credits to Fran for editing!

**Music: **_Kings Of Leon x Ghost Wars - Use Somebody (Gazzo Cover Remix)_

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><p><strong>Opprobrium<strong>

**Chapter 4: Destiny**

She moaned into my mouth as I pressed lustful kisses to her lips. She was so supple, so heavenly. It had been some time since I had a warm body in my bed.

She was the best deal.

She was the thing I was looking forward to.

She was the one I wanted to break.

_She was Lolita._

"You taste so good," I told her. "You taste like butter croissants and ripe strawberries."

"Are you always this good at complimenting the ladies?"

"Only for you," I chuckled.

My mouth descended to her jaw.

To her neck.

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her skin, it evoked a sexy groan from Bella. She was probably used to being treated this way. Men must have thrown themselves at her, especially when she was dressed the way she was at the bar.

She was young.

She was pretty...

Maybe even stunning.

_Fuck, _I cursed, _stop listening to scrotum gossip_.

"Masen," she moaned. I was momentarily confused by the name, until I was reminded of the fact that she only knew me by that pseudonym.

_It was a shame she wouldn't be screaming out my real name._

"Bella," I said, kissing her soft flesh.

My mouth traveled lower and lower, until I was in the dip of her cleavage. The sweetheart neckline of her dress showed me all the divine parts of her body.

Her elongated neck.

Her collarbones.

Her shoulders.

The dress also revealed her slender legs.

The dress exposed everything.

I kissed the tops of her breasts, allowing the soft mounds to press under the weight of my mouth. I unloaded kisses down her clothed body until I got to her thighs.

"Tell me to stop," I said.

"No, please don't," she pleaded, holding onto my hands.

I lifted her up from the bed to entangle my arms around her, unzipping her dress with one vertical swipe. The black fabric that covered her chest fell in front of her, showing me her beautiful breasts.

I kissed their perky tips.

I sucked them.

Rolled them between my fingertips.

Over and under my tongue.

She clutched onto my hair as she moaned her appreciation.

_She's definitely done all this before_, I laughed_._

Her wanton moans were just begging for more. I couldn't wait to hear her salacious stories. I was sure she had many to tell.

This woman wasn't virtuous at all.

She was a seductress.

A temptress.

A complete siren for men.

I kissed down her stomach.

Over her belly button.

To the apex between her inner thighs.

Heaven awaited me as I pulled down the offending piece of fabric that prevented me from seeing the wonderland I was searching for.

A landing strip was present, creating a natural look. I guess she didn't like being bare. It made her look more mature than she probably was. I kissed her outer lips before making my way through the soft folds of wetness. She writhed, holding onto the bed sheets as I flicked through her- hunting for a hidden treasure.

Within minutes, she came undone with a cry. The treasure didn't take long to find.

Victory pumped through my veins.

Moving myself on top of her again, I kissed her, making her taste herself on my lips. It was a reminder of my power over her.

She will remember me for a long time.

I would be the one who would ruin her.

Tear her apart.

Make her come with a few flicks of my tongue.

My fingers grasped her breasts as I blew kisses of languid gentleness across her jaw.

"Please," she moaned. "I want you."

_Of course, you do_.

I refrained from scoffing at her words.

She was just another femme fatale waiting to show her true colors.

Bella Swan was a temptress and she knew it.

"Then you'll have me," I said, moaning into her neck. Things were about to get wild and crazy.

Then it hit me.

A reminder.

"Are you on the pill?" I asked her.

She shook her head.

"But I think I have a condom in my purse," Bella said shyly.

_How fortuitous of you, Miss Swan. Always ready to play._

She fumbled through her belongings before taking out the foil packet. Her fingers shook as she ripped it open. She must be in a hurry to enjoy the action to come. I waited for her to put it on but she surprised me by placing it in my hand.

"I don't know how to..." she murmured. "You know, put it on a guy."

_Sure, you don't, Miss Swan,_ I smirked as I rolled it on.

Lining myself at her entrance, I pushed forward quickly.

She was so tight.

So tantalizing.

She was every man's wet dream.

It was just a pity she could be so evil on the inside.

So heartless.

So cruel.

Just like the girls who used to laugh at me up until graduation. Leaving that school was the best thing that ever happened.

I clenched my eyes shut as I felt skin moving against skin. I couldn't feel anything but her. I didn't see or hear anything, but my own, pounding heart as I repeatedly plunged in and out of her.

Her soft whimpers made me quicken my thrusts.

"Fuck," I growled. "You feel so good."

Bella's breathless pants spurred me on, evoking dark, animalistic desires to overpower me.

"Do you feel good?" I asked. "Scream out my name."

_Even though that was the wrong name._

"Masen," she moaned quietly. "Yes... it's getting there."

_Getting there? _

My ego took a kick in the stomach.

Was she comparing me to all her other conquests? I narrowed my eyes at her, starting to feel very zealous at showing her my skills.

I murmured the dirtiest words into her ear while rubbing her, teasing her... daring her to come for me repeatedly. With an almost inaudible groan, she tightened around me, clenching onto me as I dove over the edge.

I had never felt something like this in my life.

Ever.

I didn't know if it was a blend of my own fury and lust or if it was all because of her.

The seductress.

She was an overdose.

A despicable sensation.

Scandalously sinful.

"Masen," she panted. "Masen."

"Bella, you were amazing," I whispered, kissing her ears. The aftershocks of her body carried through to mine, making me quiver and tremble.

She wasn't supposed to be affecting me like this.

But she was.

She was something else entirely.

Beguiling.

I stared into her eyes as I pulled out, reminding Bella of who was inside of her while delivering all that pleasure. I rolled off the bed without a second look and walked into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, wanting to get rid of her scent.

She was too enticing.

Unhealthy for me.

Looking down, I realized I was hard for her, again.

_Shit, what is wrong with you, Cullen?_

Feeling like a teenager, I managed to relieve myself by revisiting the beautiful sight of her body. Although it was only a mental picture, it worked effortlessly.

Walking back into the bedroom with a towel resting on my hips, I smiled triumphantly at her. She had no idea what was coming. She'd cleaned herself up after our little session.

"Umm," Bella said in a shy voice. "Do you want me to stay?"

I smiled at her meek expression.

For starters, her annoying act was as transparent as ever.

She was not the innocent girl-next-door.

She was clear-headed.

She wanted men to underestimate her so that she could subdue them with one bat of her eyelashes.

"Up to you," I replied. I wouldn't mind having another round with her. She was quite the delicious one.

"It's quite late," she stated. "So-"

"I guess that means you'll be staying, right?" I finished for her. "Do you need to shower or anything?"

Not waiting for a response, I bent down to charge my phone. When I turned back around, I saw a closed bathroom door and heard the sound of running water.

She was quiet and peculiar. It was starting to make my head hurt at figuring out the possible games she could be playing.

After Bella's quick shower, we turned off the lights and got into bed. It was weird cuddling with her. I didn't like the post-coital, spooning business. I didn't do it with the other one-night stands. It was even more unusual doing it with her.

Bella Swan.

She turned onto her side. "Goodnight."

I stared at the locks of dark hair that rested on the pillow. They looked ethereal. The faint glow of moonlight caressed her skin. I couldn't help but sneak my hand under the blankets to touch her again. Cupping her soft breast, I started to play with one of her pebbled peaks before moving to the other one.

Bella gave a small gasp. She sighed contently like a little kitten, leaning against me. I moved my hand lower until I was cupping the place I was in earlier. She whimpered slightly as I stroked her. But then she moved my hand up to her stomach as I spooned her.

I guess she wasn't into it right now.

_Was she playing coy?_

"I'm just a little sore," Bella said.

"Been awhile for you?" I smirked.

_I wouldn't have guessed_.

"Something like that," she murmured.

"Goodnight then, my little Swan," I cooed into her ears. There was a hint of danger coating my words.

"Goodnight, Masen," she said drowsily, pressing herself against me as she sank into unconsciousness. I rubbed her arm, tracing circular patterns. She was out by the next minute.

* * *

><p>I left when it was still dark. The sun hadn't risen and the moon hadn't disappeared. I placed everything in my suitcase and quietly zipped it up. The sleeping woman in my bed had a steady rise and fall to her breaths. She was still deep asleep.<p>

She looked peaceful, with a pout on her lips as she slept. Gingerly, I moved a piece of hair away from her face. A sudden sickness devoured me as I came to the full realization of what I was doing. I quickly moved my hand away.

I scribbled my number on a piece of paper. Perhaps, it was a demonstration of humiliation towards her. But what did she expect from this?

It was just a game to me.

I wrote a message as well.

_Masen Hale. Call me whenever you want another go._

I rolled my suitcase out of the room and shut the door with a click. Walking down to the lobby, I dropped off my key-card. Housekeeping would eventually wake Bella, unless she decided to wake up naturally.

I imagined her sitting upright.

Disoriented.

Confused.

An empty bed.

A note.

A night to remember.

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><p><strong>Not the biggest fan of Edward. What is everyone else thinking?<strong>

**Love, perpetually.**


	5. Energy

**Note:** Thank you for reading, y'all warm my heart like always. Thank you to Fran for editing.

**Music:**_ Chris Isaak - Wicked Game (Adriatique & Thyladomid Edit)_

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><p><strong>Opprobrium<strong>

**Chapter 5: Energy**

The trip back to New York wasn't eventful.

The humming of the airplane, along with its sleepy passengers offered me the quietude I needed. However, there were the rare occasions when I'd doze off and have visions of a certain brunette. Frightened, my eyes would fly open as if in alarm from thinking about what I had just done.

My eyes were wide and crazy.

My breathing was shallow.

Why did I have daydreams about _her_?

She wasn't anyone special.

She was nobody.

All she did was support everything that I had thought to be true about her.

Now that I was done with her- well, nearly, Charlie would be next.

_What goes around comes around._ Isn't that what they say? Consequences would be dealt to him for his actions. He would crumble in frustration when he realized that he no longer had the control. Control over his feelings. Control over his daughter. His dissatisfaction in the fact that he could no longer take what was not his, would result in his undoing.

I asked the flight attendant for a cold beverage, just to cool down my sociopathic-sounding thoughts. I wondered what my father would think if he saw me like this.

He'd probably be disappointed.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed heavily. This was _forced _into my hands. The tragic sequence of events, the emotional conflicts of right and wrong... everything. I didn't want to do any of this, however, the only way I could subsequently heal over something as reprehensible as what they had done, was to hurt those at fault. In the past, I would curl up and dive into a headspace of isolation, during periods of darkness and mistrust of people.

I thought the outside world had taught me that life was precious and not to be taken advantage of. I had been bullied as a kid but I was the one who survived. I hadn't given into the confused mind of evil by harming others. Carlisle had mentored me through those learning curves. But now, I was speedily transforming into a creature I hardly even recognized... and it almost seemed as though I didn't care about the external pain I would cause.

The notion of productivity was more appealing than the idea of inaction.

A numb feeling of rage plagued my mind.

I couldn't let it go.

Morals were forgotten.

Dreams were shoved aside.

I had to learn my lesson the hard way that shit happens to good people. But maybe- just maybe- _they _will learn a lesson, too.

That shit could also happen to bad people.

I was now definitely praying that I didn't burn in the deepest pits of hell after all that had gone through my head. As my unhinged thoughts surrounded me, I thought that I may have been transformed into another persona. Perhaps I had substituted Henry Jekyll with Edward Cullen and Edward Hyde with a certain Masen Hale.

To my surprise, the plane ride wasn't completely filled with deranged negativity. I also befriended Confusion that day. Confusion didn't say much; she just sat quietly in my head. For that, I was pleased to be in her calming company.

It also reminded me that I still had a conscience.

* * *

><p>Lindsay called me as soon as I got out of the airport. The distantly familiar sensation of warmth encircled me as I talked to her. She was bubbling with excitement at the new developments of the book. Something about how an engaging artwork for the cover would inevitably amass more readers.<p>

"I thought we weren't supposed to judge a book by its cover," I said, through the phone.

"You and I both know that it's only a positive belief that people implant in others, so as to conserve fairness," Lindsay lectured. "Oh honey, it's going to be brilliant!"

"I'm sure it will be, Lindsay," I said kindly, as I rolled my luggage to a nearby taxi.

"You're such a sweetheart," she cooed in a motherly voice.

If only she knew what I was up to.

"Not really," I mumbled absently.

"What was that?"

"Uh-... I said, 'yeah clearly'," I lied.

After the conversation with Lindsay, I got a cab to my apartment, but not before buying a six-pack of beer from the supermarket. Alcohol would be keeping me company tonight. I called Jacob after eating dinner. He picked up on the third ring and hollowly asked me what I wanted.

I told him I was sorry, that I hadn't been myself lately and that he could kick my ass if he needed to. Jake replied with a warning that he might just take me up on that. He was a cool bloke. I invited him over but he said he already had plans with Leah. I graciously offered a rain check.

A couple of days later, Jacob Black did come over. Not to kick my ass though. He wanted to spend some proper time with me after Carlisle's passing. Over some liquor, we talked into the night about everything that was equivalent to a male version of a slumber party.

It was also amusing that he wanted to watch _Titanic_. It certainly added credibility to this manly sleepover we were having.

"We're just like Leah's chicks when they're having a girls-only night," Jacob joked. It felt good to have fun again, especially with Jake.

"I never understood why guys couldn't talk about their feelings," Jake said thoughtfully, looking at my bookcase whilst I inserted the DVD into the player. "We're all human beings. We all have feelings. What makes guys any different than girls?"

"Maybe because we have a penis?" I suggested.

"So because we have balls, we can't talk about emotional stuff anymore?" Jacob said, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know. Stigmas, I guess. They suck."

"They do."

I thought for a minute about what Jake was saying before I spoke, "I think the ordinary guy also feels as if he has a lot of responsibilities. They feel the need to provide for their families, protect their loved ones and act tough in times of despair. Maybe it just causes a deep need to retain honor and strength even at unnecessary moments."

"Is this coming from your own experience?" Jake asked quietly. I shrugged, not quite sure about what to think.

And with that, we continued watching the film until Jacob ruined the cinematic atmosphere.

"_Draw me like one of your French girls_," he quoted in a husky whisper.

The night ended with contagious laughter.

* * *

><p>I started checking my phone more often.<p>

It wasn't my mother who I was expecting from.

It was someone else who dominated my mind. I was partially sure that it was the bugging irritation of not getting a response from _her_. Did I please _her_ that night? Did I make _her_ feel good? What were _her_ thoughts on the following morning?

I tried to visualize the possible expressions that could have donned her face after waking up... after reading my note. Maybe, she was happy.

Sad.

Or even angry.

I was a dickhead—that part was unarguably true. However, a better one than her father, at least. A sudden thought, encapsulating certainty, as well as uncertainty, entered my brain. I placed myself in Charlie's shoes. If something like that happened to my daughter, as in some leather-jacketed guy decided to bed my daughter for unethical reasons, I'd probably bust that guy's ass. Heck, Jacob and I would probably do it together.

So what I did... was that good or was that bad? Good for me but bad for them so shouldn't I be proud?

Satisfied?

Elated, even.

_It was the right thing. You did well, _Anger congratulated me.

_You're confused and not thinking straight, _Worry told me, shooting an annoyed look at Anger.

I never told Jake everything that had happened in Seattle. He asked me about the funeral. I gave a one-word reply, not eager to expand on the details. There was a moderate-sized gathering of people who expressed their condolences. They all thought Carlisle was depressed or at least troubled in some way.

They all thought that he was a poor psychiatrist who couldn't handle his occupation.

They couldn't be any further away from the truth.

Esme was the culprit and she had been standing ten feet from all of them. Her crocodile tears were revolting. To think that I could even be related to her made my skin crawl. During the time that I still lived in Seattle, before I moved out to be independent, and then become a full-time writer, I never saw anything wrong with my parent's marriage.

They were happy.

They never argued.

Maybe it was all just too perfect.

So perfect, that it became imperfect.

Nevertheless, it didn't give Esme the right to go and be someone else's whore.

It was filthy.

It was a violation of their marriage vows.

"Ah, I guess I'm a semi-orphan now," I announced to no one in particular. "There's no possible way for me to forgive her."

I nursed a beer whilst reading over my manuscript. With a red pen, I wrote down notes. Scribbling here and there, I worked throughout the hours of early afternoon until twilight shone through the windows. The furniture and the sky were coated in light maroon. I stood by the window as I watched the sun collect its rays and run away from the cool blanket of evening that settled over the city.

Carlisle used to love waking up early to watch the sunrise whenever we were on family vacation in Florida. As a bonus treat for missing out on the sunrise- as I was often too tired to wake up, my father used to say that the sunset was there to give us a second chance. I remembered wanting to sleep in rather than witnessing the sun coming up to do its daily job. But every time I did manage to pull myself out of bed, I felt the accomplishment being branded onto my skin. I would be there, next to my dad, for every sunset (and sometimes every sunrise).

It was supposed to be like that- my father being next to me.

When I had a family of my own.

When my children would learn to read, write, play and dance.

When my children would go to school and learn to be better people.

Carlisle was meant to teach his grandchildren all the things that he taught me.

But it'll never happen now.

Blinking my eyes rapidly and willing the tears to vanish into thin air, I grabbed my coat and ventured into the evening air.

It was a Friday night.

It was a good time to hook up with a nameless stranger.

* * *

><p>We didn't even bother with introductions. She knew what I wanted and she would suffice. Her blowing skills were remarkable. Dark blue eyes stared up at me as she fondled and pumped me.<p>

Up and down.

Hard and soft.

"Use teeth," I gasped.

Her light brown curls bobbed with her eager mouth. For a nanosecond, I suddenly saw someone else's face in front of me. It was the Swan girl. I pictured her faux innocence and her shy smiles. Suddenly, I was running to home base quicker than ever, by just picturing _her _behind my eyelids.

The girl in front of me looked pleased. Little did she know, not all of it went to her credit.

The intercourse part just included a lot of screaming and squeaky bedsprings. Her nails didn't stop clawing my back. It felt nice at times, but other times, I felt as if I was going to be slaughtered, shed off my skin with the help of her sharp nails and meet my deserving end. Chunks of flesh were probably coming off under her fingernails with her ferocious drive.

_I should have chosen the blonde one. She seemed much calmer than this one._

The girl ended up passing out soon afterwards. Her snores filled the room as I got my clothes back on. I walked out of her apartment and called a cab back to mine, feeling more relieved than I had been in days.

It was nearly half-past two in the morning when I opened my apartment door. I took a quick shower and stupidly decided that Netflix should be watched at the most ungodly hour of all time. I sifted through the selection of shows, not knowing which one was worthy of my attention.

My cell phone rang next to me. I looked at the unrecognizable number, wondering who could possibly be calling me at this time. Lindsay, Esme, Jacob? There was no way Jacob was still functioning at this hour.

Lindsay had a busy, family life; she was strict on reinforcing bedtimes for everyone under her roof. So unless she decided that three in the morning was a good time to do her work, it couldn't possibly be her. Esme? It was plausible to believe that Esme decided to call me from an unknown number just to get me to pick up. But then again, it seemed silly that she would call me at this hour.

That left... only one other person.

It couldn't possibly be _her_.

Did she catch me out? I swallowed the dry lump in my throat.

_What does she want? _I screamed internally.

I picked up my cell phone, staring at it as if I had a ticking, time bomb in my hands. After some mental encouragement from myself, I answered the phone.

A timid voice greeted me.

"Masen?"

* * *

><p><strong>I made a banner for this story and it's linked on my profile, if any curious souls are wondering. Have a great day.<strong>

**Love, perpetually. **


	6. Clueless

**Note:** I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving. I am grateful that you choose to read my stories. Thanks to Fran for editing.

**Music:** _Funeral Suits - Colour Fade _

* * *

><p><strong>Opprobrium<strong>

**Chapter 6: Clueless**

"Bella?" I asked, hesitant to believe that it was actually her on the line.

A part of me was exultant to hear her voice again, knowing that she was calling me and probably wishing for a repeat of that night. The rest of my body was buzzing with confusion as to why I was so entranced by this strange woman.

No matter how many times I reminded myself of what I was aiming to do and what had motivated me to become this monster, I could not dispose of the ignited, electrifying feeling I had.

The one sitting at the bottom of my stomach.

In its acidic shelter.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm sorry that I'm calling you so late," she said. "I didn't know if you were in New York or not. I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Nah, I was watching Netflix. What can I do for you, Bella?" I casually replied.

She was unsurprisingly quiet again, and for a second I thought she disconnected the call. The pregnant silence that sat between us made me feel very claustrophobic. Simultaneously, it also energized my nerves as I searched for the meaning behind Bella calling me at this late hour.

I was not left alone for long as Bella's voice pierced through the static quietness between us. Instead of her mousy self, an angry Bella stood in her place.

"What the hell was the note for?" she demanded.

"Look, I was busy. I had to be somewhere," I explained. "There wasn't a lot of time."

"You told me you were in Seattle _for _business."

She was smarter than I thought. Or, she was just very good at remembering things.

"Yeah, well I had some things to sort out in New York as well, so I returned home." My reasoning was starting to sound feeble. I looked around my apartment as if inspiration was waiting to pop out and sprinkle some much-needed credibility into my story.

"You didn't know you had stuff to sort out until the morning that you left? I never knew plane tickets could be booked so quickly."

I looked up at my ceiling, asking the white paint for what to say next.

The Swan girl was baffling me.

A complete enigma.

Apparently, her brain worked like oiled up clockwork. The gears ran smoothly without a hitch.

_She's playing your game better than you, Cullen_.

"I had business to attend to. Will you just drop it? We had just met that night, Bella. It wasn't like we knew each other," I stated angrily.

Through the completion of my patience to give Bella a valid explanation, I realized that I was the epitome of a petulant kid who used the '_just because_' reasoning to get away with unfinished business.

_You're getting old, I think I see a few gray hairs, _Anger chortled.

Bella grew silent.

"But _hey_," I said with a hint of sleaziness in my voice. "If you want a good ride-"

"I can't believe you," she immediately hissed. "I can't believe I fell for all your stupid words. I shouldn't have been that naïve."

"My words weren't stupid," I argued. "I thought they were quite flawless. Charming, even."

"-gnant," Bella murmured. "I can't believe my luck... with you, out of all people..."

"Wait, what are you saying? I didn't catch your mumbling," I said, straining to hear her words.

Bella took a deep breath and expelled everything out in a rush.

"I'm pregnant," she stated quickly.

Fortunately, it was coherent. Unfortunately, it was the most unexpected news- though, probably the highlight of my week- to which I would have collapsed like a bag of potatoes if I hadn't been lying down already.

It seemed like that 'p' word decided to call a spontaneous meeting for all the friends inside my head.

Guilt and Grief brought Stupidity along.

Guilt Junior couldn't make it and for that, I was partially glad.

Through it all, I began to question why my subconsciousness was adding unnecessary layers to a story that didn't even exist, and an absence to a _thing__- _a personified emotion_- _that was only alive in my head.

However, in other news, Confusion strolled in and the whole atmosphere got crazier. Naturally, she rained down havoc, battling against morality and cursing alongside loyalty.

_What kind of nightmare am I in? _I stupidly asked myself. _Or, has this nightmare become my reality?_

Apart from the fact that the talking in my head was getting more insane with each passing day, the shocking bombshell that Bella dropped was making me feel as if I was living in another universe.

Images flew by my head.

It was as if I was in a dimension that encompassed space, time, and perplexities. I saw an older version of myself holding a baby with Bella next to me. I saw myself dancing with Bella as she swayed with the newborn, who was bundled up in blankets, to soft jazz. I saw myself sleeping with a child on my chest, no doubt, drooling- the both of us.

It was then that I came to an abrupt realization.

I was officially losing the plot.

"Nope," I said stubbornly.

"What do you mean '_nope_'? How is your denial as big as your ego?" Bella yelled, demonstrating just how sharp her tongue was.

"It can be anyone's kid. How do I know you haven't been sleeping around? Maybe the guy before me or the guy after me is the real dad," I sneered into the phone. "Tell me, Bella, do you like your fair share of one-night stands?"

Her almost inaudible gasp made me move my feet uncomfortably, underneath the duvet. My father would surely not be pleased with the awful behavior of his one and only son. After all, what I insinuated about Bella offered the perfect summary for my own insatiable troubles.

"I was a _virgin_ before I had sex with you," Bella whispered quietly. "How dare you? You're such a fucking jerk."

"A virgin?" I scoffed. "You should win an Oscar for lying. And by the way- if you didn't get the memo- that was sarcasm."

"I'm not lying," she argued impatiently.

All of a sudden, I wanted her to calm down because if she truly was pregnant, I didn't want her to pop a vein in her eye, merely because of a verbal fight with me. "I didn't know how to put that condom on you. I mean... I've never done any of that. I've only heard stories from my friends and read about it online."

"I smell bullshit," I said cautiously.

I found myself pausing and reassessing the situation.

I had been so forceful with her, eager to chase my own release by using her. I just wanted to show her how much of a convenience she was by simply leaving her immediately to go shower after our activity. I hadn't asked her how she was or if it was her first time.

I hadn't acted like man at all.

I had acted like a foolish boy who was eager to be blinded by vengeance.

So that guilt couldn't get to the better of him.

Now I wished I could actually know for sure as to whether she was lying or not. I peered into the depths of my mind, seeking solace out of this situation, but Stupidity gave me a wink and it made me feel ten times worse.

_I really am stupid._

"B-but you were experienced. Your whole act of being shy and cute worked really well. I'm into that. But you totally knew what you were doing," I said desperately.

"I was sore afterwards. That's why I didn't let you touch me," Bella replied mercilessly.

"Yeah, and I asked if it had been a while for you and you said-"

"I said it was _something_ like that."

That was true.

I wasn't sure what she had meant by that but now it felt as if the puzzle pieces were assembling together to form a recognizable picture.

It was probably a picture of me and '_IDIOT_' written on my forehead.

I was a _Class__ A_ Jerk.

"Oh fuck," I said.

_This can't be happening_, my thoughts screamed at me.

_Make it stop._

"I'm not trying to force fatherhood on you, Masen. But I'm keeping the baby, whether you like it or not," Bella said with finality.

"Do you... have any proof? Have you seen a doctor?" I asked, still doubtful of Bella's claims.

"Well, I have a medical report from the general practitioner if that's what you're interested in," she said with a sigh. I narrowed my eyes at her annoyance with my requests for more confirmation. "And a bunch of used, pregnancy tests."

In some twisted sense, the whole plan was working better than I thought. I wondered what Charlie would think about his daughter being pregnant.

Would he flip out?

Would he fall down to his knees and beg for answers?

But on the other hand, I felt revolted by everything that had happened.

What if he lashed out at her?

"Have you told anyone about this?" I asked Bella.

"Just you," she quietly replied. A segment of my heart swelled up at the idea of her just telling the practitioner and me about the pregnancy.

I felt my breathing quicken to an uneven pace.

"Are you going to tell anyone else?" I said, practically foraging for information. I didn't like the whole situation.

I wasn't in control.

It was freaking me out.

"I'm not sure," she responded.

At that moment, I envisaged the possibilities of my future. I was standing at another intersection. I could leave Bella and have nothing to do with her or I could be co-parents with her and raise my child with love.

"Dad, help me with this," I pleaded in a low whisper.

_'Told you not to do anything reckless,' _Carlisle would laugh back at me.

Now, I was on a completely new level of 'wacko conversations in my head'. I was _speaking_ to my _dead_ father. Seeking for his help.

I tugged at my hair, cursing my stupid decisions in life; cursing everything that had happened.

From Esme's affair.

To Charlie.

To Bella.

Self-realization slowly started to tremble in my bones. I thought that by preying on the weaker ones at the bottom of the pyramid, I could eventually get to the ones at the top. But now that Bella was pregnant, I felt a sense of responsibility settling into my blood vessels.

I would no longer try to act as the hungry predator that regulated the food chain.

Impulse would no longer be the light that guided my path.

Bella was pregnant with my child.

Possibly.

No, it seemed like a definite now. Actually, I wasn't sure.

_'Maybe because you don't want to believe in your mistakes,' _Carlisle would offer._ 'You refuse to be wrong, Edward, because maybe if you are wrong... you are the guilty one.'_

I looked at my hands, as if waiting for blood to appear. But all I could see was a bloody newborn being placed into my arms.

Life was being granted to me.

Yet I was more focused on avenging the dead.

"I'm going to be a father," I said, blinking slowly.

"Yes, you are, Masen," Bella replied encouragingly. She was probably pleased at the progress we were making and the fact that my obdurate attitude was finally vanishing.

It came as no surprise when I thought about how distorted everything was. Bella still believed my name was Masen Hale. We couldn't sensibly raise a kid together if she didn't know my real name.

But, then again, she couldn't possibly find out who I was.

She'd know that her future stepbrother had been fucking with her.

This was an extremely demented version of _Clueless_.

The position I was situated in seemed like a prison cell that parodied my childish errors. The walls were filled with undecipherable codes and indistinguishable faces. Everything was slowly clumping into a puddle of nothingness.

I almost felt as if reading Turgenev's novel on nihilism, _Fathers__ and Sons_, would have been fitting.

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know what Bella was going to do.

The amount of secrets and lies that I had told made coming clean to Bella seem positively futile. I desperately wished for my father to be here. Truth be told, if Carlisle were here, none of this crazy stuff would have been happening.

_We need to go through these learning curves though; _Pity rubbed me on the shoulders.

I would have broken off all connections with my mother and gone to book signings with my father. I'd tell him that life was too short to focus on the people who didn't deserve him. I'd tell him that he should give love another try, even if it meant turning away from my own mother.

However, things never worked out that way.

Things worked out for the worst.

Now, Bella was pregnant and I was going to be a father.

Supposedly.

I didn't even know what to feel anymore.

"When did you find out?" I asked.

"We used a condom, right?" she said, placing a question on top of my own.

"Right. We did," I said slowly, unsure of where she was going.

"I think it was an expired one." Bella's disappointing explanation allowed me to hear the defeat in her voice.

"What-"

"Everyone around me was doing it. They told me to keep one in my purse, in case the moment arrived. But now that I think about it, it had been in there for quite a while and it probably wasn't the newest packet when I first got it," Bella admitted.

I was left speechless.

My jaw seemed to have disconnected with the rest of my mouth. So I let out a guttural groan instead.

I was making the best screw-ups of the year. I thought back to the night I'd just had. Apart from the guilty feeling that struck me in the torso, at full-force, I also realized just how worrisome it was if I had used a faulty condom with the intense back-scratcher.

"I didn't think you were a virgin," I said, giving honesty a try.

"Should have asked," Bella muttered. "To answer your question though, I found out about two weeks after our little rendezvous. I was late. I panicked so I went to a doctor and now we're here."

I looked at the alarm clock on my bedside table. It was now four o'clock in New York, meaning that it was one in the morning for Bella in Seattle.

"You should get some sleep. You need to rest earlier, especially now that you're pregnant," I said, surprised at my sincere care for her.

"Yeah, I will," she said hesitantly. "Why are you being so nice, all of a sudden?"

I laughed nervously. I wasn't sure what was happening to me. Maybe the bed bugs were already biting my ass, thus making me feel jittery.

She was eroding the sedimentary rocks, beneath my feet, into minute particles.

She was dissolving everything I knew into murky puddles of ambiguities.

Bella hung up the phone soon afterwards, while I merely stared at the number on my chat log. We talked for so long that oddly enough, it didn't feel unnatural at all.

I saved her number- for future convenience.

The luminance of the TV showered a multitude of colors over my face as I thought about the paved road ahead of me. I could see it clearly, yet it seemed to be concealed behind a curtain of foggy uncertainties.

Perhaps, some bricks hadn't been laid yet.

Perhaps, I wasn't meant to follow the yellow brick road.

After all, impregnation of the future stepsister... I did not see that one coming.

Suddenly, the memories in my head began to spin, as if a colossal tsunami was washing away the remnants of whatever I frantically tried to cling to. Images of me were replaced with the face of an unrecognizable child who, at the same time, also possessed eerie familiarity. Carlisle's figure morphed into mine until all the fresh pictures replaced the weathered ones.

As the waves eased and the pixels became sharper, I finally saw it. It was me who stood next to my child as we watched the sunset, more often than the sunrise.

Maybe, the child will end up changing my outlook on life.

Maybe, I won't age into a bitter, old man... hating his kid's maternal grandfather.

_I could lovingly raise this kid,_ I told everyone inside my head. Announcing. Addressing. Declaring to every emotion inside my body, as one.

And for the first time in forever, my fortitude was greeted with silent applause.

* * *

><p><strong>Dialogues, dilemmas and decisions. Have a nice day.<strong>

**Love, perpetually.**


	7. Disturbance

**Note:** The holidays are so close and the lights are so damn pretty! Meanwhile, please excuse Jerkward. Thank you to Fran, as always.

**Music: **_Chvrches - The Mother We Share_

* * *

><p><strong>Opprobrium<strong>

**Chapter 7: Disturbance  
><strong>

After the phone call with Bella, sleep didn't come easily.

I rolled through one nightmare into another. My body twisted and turned with every scene that occurred behind my closed eyes.

I saw babies with laser beams coming out of their eyes and a Bella Swan with fangs sprouting from her mouth. Then, to top it all off, I was awarded a medal for being the worst father of the year. By the time my disquieting dream carried my mind into a vision of me, as Dracula, riding a donkey, I was able to find my way back to the living.

Breathing heavily, whilst resting on my elbows, I blinked rapidly. I attempted to reassure myself that the phone call with Bella never happened and that there would be no babies with laser beams anytime soon.

"No, I'm not a father," I recited as I was reminded of the strange award in my dream. "It's all in my head."

In the morning, the jolly smile that I plastered on my face while eating cereal was not fooling anyone, especially not the emotions inside my mind. Stupidity struck me in the back of the head as I groaned at the fierce headache he caused.

"I didn't ask for any of this to happen," I whined to nobody in particular.

_'But the choices you made led to these consequences,' _Carlisle would remind me.

"I am so confused right now," I whispered to myself.

I was either losing my grasp on reality or continuously having a bunch of entities jammed inside my head.

"What am I going to do with her? And the baby?" I desperately asked. I figured I had nothing to lose as I waited for an answer from within my own brain.

_'You treat her right and you fix up your poor choices in life,' _Carlisle would respond, with a bored expression. _'__You should know that, Edward.'_

I drank down the milk that was left in my bowl before placing it in the sink.

"I don't even know anything about her. But maybe this is my opportunity," I said to the tap, staring at my distorted reflection.

"What did you do when you first discovered you were going to have a kid?" I asked, speaking to my dead father again.

There was no reply.

Nothing.

None in my ears and none inside my head.

"Dad?"

But Carlisle was gone.

* * *

><p>"You boys <em>still <em>have Xbox dates?" Leah asked with a roll of her eyes as she put on her earrings.

"Babe, it's my day off," Jacob said, giving Leah a kiss before winking at me.

"The big, mighty Jacob Black must not be stopped then," Leah replied dryly.

They then proceeded to canoodle with each other.

"Guys, I'm still here," I groaned.

I may as well have been talking to a wall as both of them ignored my presence. They murmured quiet promises for what they'd do to each other later before I broke up the scene, threatening to leave and ruin Jake's day off if they didn't stop.

"You're so pussy-whipped," I laughed after Leah left the apartment.

"I can't help it," he replied, handing me one of the controllers. "_Halo_ or _Modern Warfare_?"

We ended up playing both games until we were mentally exhausted.

"I think we better stop playing unless we want that Red Ring of Death," Jake laughed, opening a bottle of beer.

"What does it feel like?" I asked, a few minutes later. "Being in love with someone?"

"Well, it's a beautiful feeling," Jake said as he turned off the gaming console. "You realize that you mean something to someone. It's as if all that you've done in life has finally found itself a purpose."

Jacob stared intensely at me before he spoke with a humorous tone, "I mean human beings are made to reproduce offspring anyway, so why not do all of that with some _love_?"

Jacob wriggled his eyebrows.

"You just ruined it," I deadpanned.

"Nah, you'll understand what I'm saying when you're in my position," he sighed with a gleeful smile. "You're still a young pup."

"I'm older than you."

"Obviously not emotionally."

Somehow, I believed him.

* * *

><p>"I think it's a good idea to set up your public profile. It might attract more readers," the man in the suit said.<p>

He was Eli Lang, another member of my management team. Lindsay nodded in agreement.

"How about volunteering at a local orphanage or the children's hospital?" she suggested, typing away.

"But I'm not even famous yet," I stated.

"Oh son, you will be soon. It's good to have an attractive history before you become famous anyway. It'll add authenticity to your image," Eli said, rubbing his mustache.

"So what will I look like if I don't do all of these things?"

"Hmm, probably just like any other phony."

"Oh, don't say that to Edward," Victoria said.

She was a thirty-year-old with sparkling blue eyes and flaming, red curls. It was a running joke that she was a _brave _one.

"Yeah, whatever you say, Merida," Eli smiled.

"So is that all for today?" I asked.

"Eager to run away from us, eh? I thought your team was like your family," Victoria said with a pout.

"Quit teasing him," Lindsay laughed. "He loves us but he's just too shy to admit it."

After an unproductive meeting, where Eli mainly talked about his wine collection, I made my way down to the local bar, ready for another meaningless night.

"A Manhattan," I ordered. The bartender gave me a sympathetic nod.

I wasn't a troubled fiancé with cold feet or a guy with a cheating girlfriend; I was none of those stereotypes. Instead, I was a man powered by, or had become fueled by internal anger and sorrowful devastation stemming from recent events.

I was no longer a good man, and I had intended to never be a good man anymore.

I wanted to ruin others.

I wanted to ruin her.

But even I couldn't do that to her anymore.

She never asked to be pregnant.

It had been me who got her to this stage.

My terrible decision-making made this entire debacle become a reality.

The bartender placed the drink in front of me. I didn't hesitate to take a sip, bowing down slightly with my elbows resting on the bench as the liquid entered my body.

"I love men who drink cocktails with style," a flirtatious voice said from behind me. I felt her fingertips running from the mid-section of my back up to my shoulders.

"Is that your pickup line?" I scoffed. She threw her head back and laughed.

"No, it's not," she smiled. "But I'll give you permission to use it."

"Sorry, but I don't swing that way," I said, with a chuckle.

Her glossy, black hair sat on her shoulders with controlled grace as her green eyes assessed me. I looked at her toned arms, then to her curvaceous body.

"Like what you see?" she asked with a giggle.

I raised my glass with a tilt of my head.

The car ride to her place consisted of a lot of fondling and kissing. I caught the driver rolling his eyes before he sheepishly looked away after meeting my gaze. The woman in my arms was eager to undo the buckle on my belt, but I told her that this wasn't the best place to put on a show.

"Tiana," she told me while tracing patterns on my shirt.

"What?"

"That's my name, in case you wanted to know what you'll be screaming out tonight," she said mischievously. "Yours?"

"Edward," I answered.

I paid the driver as Tiana stumbled out, fixing her short skirt. Together, we managed to kiss our way up to the door of her apartment. She rubbed me while licking my earlobe. Throwing her on the bed, after a tedious game with the keys on her lanyard, I crawled up her body and pulled down her top.

"Nice boob job," I complimented.

"Thanks," she replied smugly. "Do what you have to do."

After paying attention to her chest, I was about to pull down my pants when Tiana suddenly got up and pulled them down for me. Staring hungrily at the noticeable bulge in my boxers, she didn't hesitate to dig right in.

"Fuck," I cursed. "You're good."

She gave me a thumbs-up while her mouth was full with me. She didn't even bother going slow. Throwing my head back, I ran my fingers through her hair, ruining the neatness of her flawless hair-do.

"Something's vibrating," she said as she let me out of her mouth with a pop.

"Are you sure that's not you," I smirked.

"No," she said, searching around the floor. "I think it's coming from your pockets."

I walked over to where my pants were strewn and pulled out my cell phone. Bella Swan's name lit up the screen.

_Great timing._

As soon as I answered the call, Tiana started to wrap her lips around me again whilst kneeling in front of me. Her dark green eyes stared up at me. I nearly fell down from the surprise as I watched her greedily demonstrate her skills.

"Bella," I answered, trying to even out my breathing.

"Masen, I need help," she whimpered through the phone.

Tiana's hungry slurps were reverberating against the walls of the apartment so I pushed her away, which earned me an angry gasp, and walked to the window. My erection was nowhere near diminished.

"What's wrong?" I asked Bella.

She sounded as if she was crying. At that exact point, all the alarms in my head started to go off.

I, just like many men out there, didn't know how to console a crying woman.

"H-he kicked me out," she mumbled shamefully.

"Who?"

"My father," she replied.

"Okay," I said, trying to come up with ideas to help her. "Are you safe? Do you need a place to stay?"

"I'm safe, Masen. I just don't want to be a nuisance. I'm not calling to ask-"

"You have nowhere to stay," I concluded.

She sighed unhappily. "Yeah."

"Stay with me then," I blurted out without thinking.

_Where on earth did that offer come from? _I questioned myself.

"Are you sure, Masen?"

"Y-yeah, I'm sure."

"Can I come tomorrow?" she asked with a hesitant sniffle.

I started to nod before I realized that she wouldn't be able to see me. I told her it was perfectly fine. After we had hung up, I stared outside, lost in my own thoughts. I wondered if this was another poor choice I was making. But then I found myself feeling slightly more relaxed. It would be easier this way. I'd have her closer and I could get to know her better.

I could assess my target better.

And work my way out from inside.

But more than that, I'd be able to make sure that she was in a safe place until she gave birth. I had never stepped inside her house so I didn't have a clue about her home life. Who knew what Charlie Swan could stir up? Perhaps after we got to know each other better, we could work out a co-parenting deal.

I momentarily forgot where I was until I turned around, only to come face-to-face with Tiana's displeased scowl.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment," she spat, pointing to her door.

I looked down and saw that I was no longer turned on. My erection had magically disappeared. I picked up my clothes from the floor, walked past Tiana, who had mascara smeared under her eyes and closed the door behind me.

A strange feeling brewed in my chest as I realized that I had been a jerk _and_ a semi-gentleman in one night.

I gave myself a pat on the back.

* * *

><p><strong>The new UK trailer for the DisneyPixar film 'Inside Out' reminded me so much of the personified emotions in Edward's head! Also, I've (randomly) pre-written this other story called Lacunar, so there's daily updates over there (if anyone cares to know). Other than that, have a splendid day!**

**Love, perpetually.**


	8. Phoenix

**Note:** I never really like explaining _why_ I portray a character the way that I do or _what_ I've done in the story (or will do) to make them evolve as I, very much, prefer your individual interpretations instead. However, it has been unanimously agreed upon that Edward needs help. It makes me happy to know that people are not brainlessly taken by knee-buckling, hot dudes.

Thank you to Fran for this chapter.

**Music: **_Death Cab For Cutie - Your Heart Is An Empty Room_

* * *

><p><strong>Opprobrium<strong>

**Chapter 8: Phoenix  
><strong>

"I need to tidy up this messy place," I mumbled begrudgingly as I managed to hide everything that would give away my identity. "How smart of you Edward, to tell her a fake name."

_'Son, I told you not to do anything stupid. But you always manage to rebel against my wishes,' _my father would say.

"So you're back again," I mentioned. "Why do you keep disappearing when I actually need to ask you serious questions?"

_'Well, if I'm inside your head and you ask questions that you don't have the answers to, how am I supposed to answer you?' _Carlisle would reply with a sassy undertone.

"You have not changed a single bit," I stated. I imagined Carlisle letting out a hearty laugh.

I missed my father, every single day.

_'Now, now, don't look so sad, all of a sudden,' _Carlisle would joke._ 'I'll always be here if you need me.'_

I smiled through the blurry vision of my tears.

It was two hours later before I cleaned up the clutter of my man-cave. Jacob had also lived in similar disarray before he'd met Leah, who moved in and subsequently forced him to ditch the bachelor lifestyle.

Jake's pigsty existed no more.

Although my apartment would benefit from a nice makeover, the living conditions were quite decent and probably better than most apartments in the area; here was a guest bedroom that I set up for Bella. I cleaned my own room, just in case she fainted from the stench of a disorderly man's mess.

I wasn't ready to deal with the consequences of a fainting, pregnant woman.

The manuscripts and documents that were usually scattered over the couch were crammed into the drawers of a small desk in my room. She didn't need to know who I really was at this point, but she eventually would need to know. We were going to have a kid together.

I looked at my watch. Bella had texted me, saying that her plane would land at half-past three in the afternoon.

That was soon.

_'You know... you could just get her to catch a cab to your place. Why are you trying to help her so much?' _my father would say whilst kicking his feet up on my coffee table.

"Because..." I said aloud. "Because, she's pregnant with my child?"

I didn't wait for my head to formulate an appropriate response on Carlisle's behalf as I got into a taxi to head to JFK airport.

_So how do you know she's actually pregnant with your kid? _Mischief asked me with a snicker. _Are you sure, it's not just your desperation after so many lonely years and an unpromising love life?_

"I wish everyone would just leave me alone," I said with growing frustration.

"I know that feeling, pal," the cab driver said, breaking me out of my trance. "Welcome to the real world."

* * *

><p>"Thank you so much for doing this," Bella said carefully, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.<p>

I wasn't able to take my eyes off her throughout the entire trip from the airport and back to my place. Hearing her voice did no justice. Her messy brown hair and natural blush made her seem _real_, as if she was an actual person.

_Well, Sherlock, she is an actual person_.

"Why do you keep staring at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"You look at me in a quizzical way, as if you're trying to figure me out," she said uncomfortably.

"Does that bother you?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"It rattles me a bit," she admitted.

"You're just... unusual," I said. "You have all these opposites within you. It's like you're... your own person."

Bella let out a hesitant laugh. The corners of my lips had lifted slightly before they went back down. She stared at me, wrinkling her eyes. "Everyone is their own person. We're all individuals. It's not going to do you any good to place me in some sort of rigid, categorical stereotype."

"Trust me, I'm not doing that. I think you've already astounded me enough to make me realize that you're different," I said with a chuckle.

"Good different or bad different?" she inquired.

"Somewhere in the middle," I responded. She nodded before looking away, staring at the art on my wall.

A calming quietness enveloped us. It felt as if we were at an art gallery, silently staring at the paintings with strangers all around us.

"Hey, I'll show you your room," I offered.

Bella started to walk around, looking at the ceiling and staring at the floor. Her fingertips lightly grazed the lampshade. Then, they danced their way over to the window, tracing the fabric of my curtains.

Turning towards me, she gave me a shy smile.

I led her to my room first, just to quench her possible curiosity. I'd rather give her a glimpse of my room than to risk her sneaking in there when I wasn't at home. I made a pathetic excuse of being embarrassed by how messy the bedroom was, so as to minimize the amount of time she had to peek at it.

I wasn't about to let her get to the bottom of my secrets.

No girl ever did.

I walked with her to the guest room where a single bed was situated against the wall.

"So you get the queen-sized bed while I get the single," she remarked, cracking her first joke. "Haven't you realized that there are two people here?"

She pointed to her face and then to her belly. I shrugged sheepishly.

"I'm just joking," she said. "You're kind enough to even let me stay here."

She walked in and sat down on the mattress, assessing the duvet that was folded on top of the sheets. I plopped down beside her and looked around. I had always planned to revamp the room and make it into a proper office, but now that Bella was here, all previous thoughts of renovation flew out of my mind.

I stared at her as her fingers played around with the blankets.

"Why did he kick you out?"

Although I still wasn't the biggest fan of Bella Swan, I was more connected to her than I was to her shameful father. She had a baby growing inside of her that would eventually be my son. I felt the need to have her under my care.

"He was disgusted that I was pregnant before I was married. He said that kicking me out would serve a valuable lesson for me."

I placed my hand under her chin, urging her to look at me. "It's not your fault, Bella. He has no idea what he's talking about."

_It looks like Charlie maintains his motherfucker reputation._

Bella nodded before she turned away and placed her hands over her stomach in a protective manner. "Thank you, Masen."

"How about we go grab some dinner?" I suggested, finding it hard to breathe in the room. "Have you been to New York before?"

"Once, on a school trip," she replied.

Pausing, Bella licked her lips.

"I thought you were totally going to be the overprotective type."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, the type of daddy-to-be who forces the pregnant woman to stay where she is while he gets all the food and chores done," she said with a small laugh.

"I'm a quick learner."

* * *

><p>"This place has delicious Chinese food," I said, opening the door for her, "Unless, you'd rather have Mexican."<p>

"I've been craving noodles all day," Bella laughed. "Maybe, some soup, too. I think I need something light."

"You're in luck then," I said. "Let's get takeaway. I'm not eager to have you on your feet for too long."

"So you _are_ turning into the overprotective type," Bella noted, tapping her chin with her forefinger.

"When you stop teasing me, I'll get you some Greek food, tomorrow night," I chuckled as I recalled Bella telling me her love for a diversity of food.

I felt myself blinking a little quicker every time she started to open up. A strange sense of anticipation filled my chest as I listened to what she had to say next.

As we waited in line, she continued to scrutinize me as questions sat on the tip of her tongue.

"Just spit it out, Swan," I said.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" she blurted out.

"Are you saying I shouldn't be nice to you?"

"No," she said. "I'm simply asking why you think I'm worthy of all this. You don't strike me as a guy who's nice to every single girl he meets. I'm curious, that's all."

"I'm sorry for giving you a bad impression of myself, Bella," I said quietly. "I didn't mean to be so heartless. I was... well, yeah, it was just a rough patch."

Bella stayed silent.

* * *

><p>"You've been quiet," I told her, noticing how she'd look away from me every time I tried to get her to talk.<p>

"I'm just tired," she said, feigning a yawn.

"Don't pull those fake yawns on me," I said, trying to lighten up the mood. "I used to do them all the time as a kid."

"What, like pretending to be asleep when you really aren't?" Bella said knowingly.

I looked down and smiled as I held the takeaway boxes in the plastic bag. I remembered a time when Esme would walk into my room to check if I'd fallen asleep or not. I would pretend to snore, but she always called me out. Gradually, I learned that by breathing out evenly with control, my parents weren't that hard to trick for a young schoolboy.

"I'm a pro at fooling people," I said, smirking at the double meaning behind my words.

"Oh really? Me too," Bella responded calmly.

A sudden pang of worry hit me.

Could she have been pretending to be asleep the morning I'd left her in that hotel room?

_No... you're thinking too much, Cullen_.

She gave me a side-glance as we continued to walk back home.

"Are you cold?" I asked. "Here, have my coat. It's chilly tonight."

I took off my coat and wrapped it around her petite frame. My dark, leather clothing engulfed her.

Suddenly, I heard hurried footsteps coming from behind me.

"Hey," a female voice called. "We had such a fun night but then you decided to disrespect me, you fucking asshole."

That voice sounded familiar.

I turned around to see an annoyed Tiana stomping towards me.

_Crap. _

_Make haste._

"Hey, Tiana," I greeted awkwardly. "Funny seeing you here."

"Don't play games with me, pretty boy," she sneered, completely ignoring Bella. Jabbing at my chest, she snarled with resentment.

"I wasn't finished with you, the other night, Ed-"

"Okay, I think you're drunk and you should go home," I interrupted loudly, grabbing her by the elbow and leading her away.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked with a shrill cry. "Get your paws off me, Ed-"

"Stop saying my name," I growled in her ear. "Now go home before you make yourself look like a bigger idiot."

She huffed angrily as she glared at me, probably feeling annoyed that I was telling her what to do but also wondering if she should listen to my reasonable advice. Following a dilemma that lasted for a few seconds, she decided to walk away. After getting rid of Tiana, I turned around to see growing suspicion on Bella's features. She angled her head slightly, looking at Tiana's retreating form.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Nobody," I lied. "Just a girl that I used to date and one who isn't very happy with me, as you just saw, unfortunately-"

"An ex," Bella stated with painful simplicity, effortlessly labeling Tiana without the word vomit that would be spewing out of my mouth.

"Yeah," I said, scratching my head.

I wondered exactly how long the calm would last, before the storm decided to strike me like a lightning bolt declaring my ruination.

She was a lot smarter than I thought.

She was wittier.

She was more observant.

Bella Swan was going to be the death of me.

* * *

><p><strong>Love, perpetually.<br>**


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